


The Pavilion Strike

by EuterpesChild



Series: Brighton Beach Lesbians [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, BAMF John Watson, Brief Pining, Brief description of violence, Brighton Punk Universe, Case Fic, Gen, Pre-Relationship, Punk Sherlock Holmes, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 08:32:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11642808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EuterpesChild/pseuds/EuterpesChild
Summary: John grabbed her arm to stop her. “Hang on, when you say defend, what exactly are you planning?”Sherlock brushed down the sleeve of her lopsided Henley and glared at her. “We are going to jump a stranger in the park, hopefully behind a bush, because I have been hired to take down a transphobic jerk who also happens to be a burglar in his spare time. Now can we go stop him?”





	The Pavilion Strike

**Author's Note:**

> Warning that the villain is killed in this story and there's a brief mention of blood, so please be careful.

            John lay on a towel on the shingle, sun warming her face around the sunglasses over her closed eyes. Someone’s speaker was playing gentle surf rock nearby, and John was content to listen to that and the surf as she enjoyed a rare moment of sunshine and solitude at the Brighton shore. She could have drifted off easily, thinking on how lucky she was to have moved to the seashore, when her phone vibrated on her stomach and jolted her out of her sunny haze. She sat up just enough to see that the text was from Sherlock, whereupon she rolled to her side and took off her glasses to see better.  “Pavilion. Now. –SH” it read, and John sighed. While she was grateful to Sherlock for offering her a flatshare, her new flatmate could be a bit…insistent. She was constantly calling John to all parts of the city at all hours, and even once to South London at 2 in the morning. John minded less than she said, since she still hadn’t found a job and Sherlock’s exploits gave her a distraction and occasionally some cash, but now Sherlock was cutting into her beach time, which she didn’t appreciate. All the same, John pulled a loose tee over her bikini top, buttoned up her shorts, and picked up her towel to answer Sherlock’s call.

            Their flat was on the way to the Pavilion, being above a shop in the Lanes, and John stopped into to change shoes, drop her towel, and grab her assorted collection of pocket weapons, the majority of which were legal. She then ran the rest of the way to the gates of the Pavilion, hoping she wasn’t late for whatever mysterious errand Sherlock was running now.

            Sherlock was bouncing on the balls of her feet at the gate when John arrived. The sun had not been kind to the green highlights in her hair, but it had done wonders for her skin tone. John tried not to stare.

“What’s up?” John asked as she approached, trying to pretend she wasn’t as out of breath as she was. She really needed to get back on some semblance of an exercise regimen before Sherlock’s jaunts killed her.

“This asshole I’ve been following is going to attack a girl in the park,” she announced. “Lady’s a friend of mine but people take a dislike to her face, so we’re going to defend her.”

Sherlock had taken off at a brisk walk as soon as John had spoken and John had to run a bit to catch up before she finished her sentence. John grabbed her arm and slowed her down to bring them face to face. “Hang on, when you say defend, what exactly are you planning?”

Sherlock shrugged and tried to slip out of John’s grasp, but John held tight. “Fine,” Sherlock ground out when she realised there was no escape. “We are going to jump a stranger in the park, hopefully behind a bush, because I have been hired to take down a transphobic jerk who also happens to be a burglar in his spare time.” John released her, and Sherlock aggressively brushed down the sleeve of her lopsided Henley. “Now can we go stop him?” John swept her arm before her, and Sherlock took off down the path.

It didn’t take long before Sherlock held out an arm and the two of them crept behind a wide tree. About three meters in front of them were three girls having a picnic on a blanket, and John knew at once why Sherlock had taken this job. Brighton was known for its queer and punk communities, and Sherlock as well as the girls in front of them fit squarely into both groups. Sherlock was unconventional, and Sherlock took unconventional cases: a poisoner secretly working in a bakery that specialized in gay wedding cakes, for instance, or the arsonist that had burnt down a clinic primarily serving families of colour, or a blackmailer threatening closeted LGBT members of the Brighton & Hove council. Now, apparently, she had been hired to follow a man who broke into the homes of and attacked trans women, and she- no, she and John- were going to take him down before he could attack again. Before she could think more on why Sherlock seemed to specialize in cases involving the marginalized, Sherlock reached across her chest and pointed out a man sauntering his way across the grounds.

“That’s our man,” she whispered, and chills went down John’s spine when she recognized the shape of a gun tucked into the back of the man’s jeans.

“Sherlock,” she whispered urgently, meaning to warn her about the gun, but Sherlock dragged her a few feet forward and down behind a rose bush conveniently placed behind the picnicking girls. ‘They have no idea what’s about to happen,’ John thought with a shock. ‘I only hope we can get to him before-‘

“Now!” Sherlock whispered, and she was off like a shot. John was only a moment after, pulling her absolutely-not-stolen billy club out of her waistband. Sherlock grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted it up behind his back, and John struck him across the head with her club- just enough to daze, not enough to knock unconscious. She draped an arm over her shoulder before he could fall, and Sherlock took his other one, making it look like he just needed help to walk and not like they had just attacked a perfect stranger in a public park. Sherlock started walking, and John had no choice but to follow.

“Where are we going with him?” John hissed. Sherlock jerked her head towards the side of the pavilion, and they walked quickly towards where she had gestured. The man was not light, though, and soon John whispered again, “Couldn’t we have jumped him a little closer to the building?” Sherlock gave no sign of reply, though, as she was slighter than John and so carrying the target was a little harder for her.

Eventually they made it to the pavilion wall, and they let him slide down the wall into a shadowy corner and a semblance of a seated position. He was just beginning to stir into full wakefulness, so John pulled out her billy club once more, just in case. Sherlock reached into John’s back pocket and pulled out her butterfly knife, beginning to play with it in a show of intimidation. John tried not to shudder at the touch of Sherlock’s long fingers against the fabric covering her bum. Now was not the time to be distracted.

The man seemed to be preparing to speak, but Sherlock interrupted him before breath could emerge. “Who are you working for?” she demanded. The man shook his head, still dazed and appearing distracted by Sherlock’s hand with the knife. She snapped it shut right before his face, and he started. “Hey! Who’s paying you?” The man still remained silent but seemed to be starting to rise. Sherlock delivered him a backhanded slap in a blur of motion, and he slumped back against the wall. “I asked you a question,” she snapped, and his eyes finally focused in fury on her face.

“No one,” he snarled.

“Oh, so no one paid you for that grandfather clock?” Sherlock challenged. His eyes narrowed. “Or the computer? Or what about that first edition of-“

“Fine!” he bit out, stumbling to his feet. Sherlock and John both took a step back, and John’s free hand went back to her pocket. “Fine, you want to know who I work for? Why don’t you find out yourself?”

Sherlock told John later she didn’t anticipate what came next, and that that was an appalling error on her part.

The man pulled the pistol from his jeans, pulling back the safety as he went, and trained it directly between Sherlock’s eyes. John had been a step further back, and had seen the flicker of movement towards where she knew his gun was hidden. She’d yanked the throwing knife from her pocket as soon as she saw it, and caught him dead in the neck before he could fire. For good measure, she grabbed the gun from his hand and pistol-whipped him as hard as she could so that he fell unmoving to the stones beneath them. John dropped to her knees and made sure that he was dead, then wiped her prints from the pistol before dropping it next to the body. She wiped the knife blade clean on the man’s shirt and tucked her weapons back into her shorts before hopping up and pulling Sherlock away before the blood seeped into her Converses. Sherlock allowed herself to be led away, staring at the body in shock. John knew the police would be called soon, the Pavilion not exactly being a private place, and so dragged Sherlock away as quickly as she could without acting suspiciously.

When they were nearly to the Pavilion grounds gate, Sherlock finally spoke. “Is that the first time you’ve killed a man?”

John gave a noncommittal shrug that she knew would infuriate Sherlock. “Is that the first time you’ve seen a man killed?”

“Not the first time I’ve seen a dead body,” she replied, “but the first time I’ve been so close to someone being killed. Certainly it’s the first time someone’s killed for me.”

“Mm, well, lucky me being your first then,” John quipped. She missed Sherlock’s blush, but caught her half-chuckle and grinned in response.

They were nearly back to the flat when Sherlock finally realised John was gripping her hand, and she let it drop. John felt the loss as keenly as if she’d brushed her palm over a hot oven, but said nothing. She knew better than to expect the strange girl to welcome or even appreciate physical affection, but it still reminded her rather painfully that whatever it was she might be feeling for her flatmate would never be reciprocated. Instead, as she unlocked the door to their flat, she asked about the case.

“I’m beginning to think my most recent cases have all been linked,” Sherlock said, kicking off her shoes and draping herself on the sofa. “It’s been a similar string of crimes that are just dissimilar enough to not tip off the police, but they have similar sorts of victims and all the perpetrators were receiving online payments from the same source.”

“Any idea who’s paying them?” John asked, lounging against the bookshelves as Sherlock had taken the only seating in their living room.

“None at all,” Sherlock said, and startled them both by yawning.

John checked her watch. “When was the last time you slept for more than 20 minutes?”

“I started tracking him at 2200 on the 21st, so-?”

“It’s 1800 on the 23rd.” John pointed at the staircase in the corner of the room. “Go to bed.”

Sherlock, astonishingly, went up the stairs without complaint, leaving John to take her turn flopping onto the couch and sighing. She lay an arm across her eyes and thought despairingly about her wild, daring, brilliant, reckless, and oddly attractive roommate. ‘What have you done, John Watson?’ she asked herself. ‘What crazy mess have you gotten yourself into now?’

**Author's Note:**

> Astonishingly this is the first legitimate Sherlock Holmes case I've ever successfully written. Also I'm returning to this universe that everyone thought was abandoned, because how could I ever forget my genderfluid Brighton punk daughter?  
> I will admit that I did not reread the first fic in this universe before writing this, however, so please pardon any spelling or characterisation errors. Continuity is a lazy author's worst nightmare.
> 
> Compliments, constructive criticism and ideas for future cases in this universe welcomed!


End file.
